


King's Row

by duraznero



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Board Games, Canon Compliant, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duraznero/pseuds/duraznero
Summary: Many years have passed since Asmira last saw Solomon. She wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't changed at all — but a glamour only hid the years that had passed and didn't get rid of them.
Relationships: Asmira & Solomon (Bartimaeus), Solomon & Uraziel (Bartimaeus)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Bartimaeus Fic Exchange 2020





	King's Row

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvinRyd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvinRyd/gifts).



> This is my fill for the Bartimaeus Fic Exchange 2020, organized by the great tarragonthedragon, and oh boy, that sure was fun! 
> 
> My prompt was to write some post-canon RoS fic including Asmira, Solomon and Uraziel, so I went and delivered — only after giving RoS a nice and thorough re-read, that is, even though I must have read this book or listened to the audiobook an embarrassing amount of times by now in my life of 23 years? 
> 
> Either way, enjoy!

**_931 BCE_ **

If Asmira had to choose a favorite location among the many places she had seen in those many years, it had to be Nineveh. 

For some years she had only traveled along the Frankincense route, seen more than enough of the cities that laid on its ways, and had developed a special love for the city of Petra in the Edomite kingdom. But she had wanted to see more, travel beyond the known pathways and when she had gone to the capital in which Tiglath-Pileser II had reigned she didn’t know what to expect - but the more she stayed, the more in love she fell with the city, which was rare as she usually tried to stay away from urban settlements too big for her taste and too full of life, but Nineveh… it did something for her. Maybe its architecture, maybe its people but maybe it was also the Assyrian cuisine, but she weren’t Asmira who had a perpetual case of _fernweh_ , she surely would have found a way to force herself to stay here forever, maybe even become a naturalized citizen.

But she was Asmira, the woman who wished to see the world, the woman without a place to call home — and besides, wouldn’t it be lovely to return one day instead of spending the rest of her life here? 

She had been thinking of the beautiful dark-eyed woman with a split lip, who wore necklaces with corals around her slender neck, when the sound of flapping wings caught her outside.

Like so often, she had taken the night shift and had wandered a bit away from the camp and now it turned out to be to her advantage. The demon landed on the rock she leaned against in the form of a black owl with large ruby red eyes.

“Asmira of Sheba?”

“Yes, this is she.” Asmira smiled. “Who desires to know?”

“King Solomon the Great of Israel, milady.”

Asmira raised a hand. “I am no lady and have no wish to be addressed as such, exalted spirit. What does Solomon want? How long did it take you to find me.”

“Not as many as I thought. Solomon begs your pardon if you happen to be otherwise occupied, but he desires to speak to you most urgently.”

Asmira eyed the demon. “When did you leave Jerusalem?”

“Four nights ago. _Very_ urgently, it seems to bear repeating with you.”

“For what reason?”

The demon let out a deep sigh. “Listen, you are human, you should understand — there’s got to be something between your ears besides hot air, doesn’t it?”

Asmira ignored the mockery and considered its words. 

It had been many years since she last saw Solomon - almost 19 years, she wouldn’t know if he would be even able to recognize her anymore! Somehow she doubted it would be the same the other way around; she was aware of the glamour Solomon had used back in the days, how underneath the mask of the handsome eternally young king with dark curly hair and a charming alabaster smile had been the truth with the face of an old man, in eternal pain with the burden he had to bare. No, if he had the Ring — and he had to — he would still wear his glamour, maybe with a little gray in his hair and crow’s feet that somehow lessened absolutely nothing of his attractiveness.

But a glamour didn’t take away the actual age, and Solomon had to be, what, 60 years by now? 

She nodded, now understanding. But this wasn’t solely about death itself, no, she could tell what it was about. And _that_ , now that was very important.

“I understand.”

“Good. We are… huh, a two week journey away from Jerusalem, that’s not exactly a skipping stone’s throw, y’know?”

“How much time do we have? Two weeks?”

The demon shrugged. “Who besides the old geezer knows that? _I_ say it’s too much time, but you humans are such fragile creatures, he could trip on the way down to the throne room and break his hip, making this entire thing futile!”

Asmira cocked her head. “What commands were you given, demon?”

The owl ruffled its feathers. “‘Find Asmira of Sheba and tell her to seek me out in Jerusalem. It concerns a most urgent matter, she will know what I am talking about.’” It recited with an almost bored tone and shook itself.

“I assume that there _is_ enough time for him to wait two weeks. He didn’t simply order you to bring me to Jerusalem.” Asmira shivered a bit in the cold of the desert. “Get some rest, spirit, if you want to, and return to Jerusalem in the morning. _I_ will be going to Damascus then — to see someone who still owes me a favor, which I now seem to dearly need.”

“It’s only a five-day journey to Damascus.”

“Exactly. Tell Solomon I will be at his palast within a week, maybe a day more.”

She had saved the life of a magician three years ago back in Babylon, a Phoenician magician named Nikkal who had travelled with a caravan she had protected and had gotten into quite some troubles with a seclusive sect. As a thank you, the magician had put herself under a life debt, mostly begrudgingly so as Asmira had almost pulled it out of her nose (having a favor from a magician was a powerful thing after all) but she was sure that Nikkal would be happy to finally get rid of it — especially since she was going to use it for an actually important matter.

“Fine. What do I care, if he dies before you get there, I will automatically be dismissed anyway.”

Asmira gave the owl a cool smile.

“Oh, you would rather prefer if everything went according to Solomon’s plan, believe me.”

The owl titled its head and the gaze in its eyes was no doubt mocking.

“If you say so, it surely will be true, _milady_.” The owl purred sardonically and took off at once, speeding across the night sky and was out of sight within less than a minute.

  
  


The Phoenician magician paled when Asmira stood on her threshold six days later just before dawn and nodded at her in greeting.

“For Baal’s sake, Asmira.” She cursed and looked down the street on which Asmira stood. “What are you _doing_ here?” 

“Let’s not do this in the middle of the street, shall we? Whichever spies are lurking around here, they won’t make themselves visible just because you are suspicious, are they?”

Nikkal opened her mouth, closed it again, and then took a deep breath. She was a whole head shorter than Asmira, very skinny and she had seen Asmira fight and kill. If she was smart — which she was, despite being prone to some rash decision-making — she’d know better than to start something by attacking her.

The magician stepped aside begrudgingly and bid Asmira entrance with a sardonic wave into her shop.

Nikkal was a trader and saleswoman for magical artifacts of sorts, but of comparatively little power, or at least that had been the case back then. The size of the shop she was in and the many trinkets that sat upon podiums and behind glass cabinets might tell a different story, but admittedly Asmira’s knowledge when it came to magical objects was rudimentary at best, so whether they were actually useful was another question, but did magicians always know either? 

Two demon employees were cleaning the place; one was scrubbing the floor to a gleam, the other flying above the ground to gentle dust off the top of the shelves. The scrubbing one murmured something Asmira couldn’t understand as they passed by and the flying one gave its mistress a surprised look as she passed by with Asmira in tow. 

“Early visitors, eh? What does the lady wish to buy? It has to be quite exclusive if you show up two hours before we open shop.”

“Shush, slave.” Nikkal barked and led Asmira into a miz-sized backroom which seemed to function as both office and summoning room. She leant back in a cushioned chair and allowed Asmira to sit down opposite of her. Obviously having regained her composure and being back in her element, she gave Asmira a wide smile.

“So you’re obviously here for your,”, she coughed awkwardly, “debt, which I still owe you, but before you say anything: I am well-connected now. The priests of Baal won’t like it if one of their suppliers basically becomes a spirit slave to some no-name from the South, and they have some _nasty_ punishments up their sleeves. So let me make you an offer; life-long discount and I share some of my connections with you. That way we are all happy!”

Asmira gave her the fast-talking magician a confused look.

“What in Sheba’s name are you even talking about?”

“Err, business? That’s what you’re here for, eh?”

“Well, yes, but I already know what I want from you, and thank you but I have no need for falsified amulets with imps within them.”

Nikkal crossed her arms. “ _What_ with _what_? If I were you, I’d be careful with talking anymore of that insulting nonsense, unless you wanna know how nasty my staff can really be.”

Asmira gave her a piercing look, hoping to be sufficiently intimidating. For emphasis, she drummed her fingers against her side where a short blade was concealed underneath her travelling cloak. 

“Threatening the person you owe a lift debt to is always a bad idea, and you know that some foliots are no match for me - neither are _you_.”

The magician’s smile froze on her face but she nevertheless held her head up high.

“So what _is_ it that you want?”

“Transport.”

“Transport? To where exactly?”

“Jerusalem.”

Nikkal stared. Then she grinned. “Why didn’t you say that right away?”

  
  


The journey to Jerusalem was over quicker than she would have expected. The Phoenician summoned a low-level djinni, was meticulously exact in her wording when commanding it to bring Asmira to Jerusalem safe and soundly, mostly because she had been correcting the magician while talking to the demon, just to be safe. 

The djinni took off with her to Jerusalem on a carpet shortly after sunrise and landed in front of the city gates in the middle of the afternoon. They had passed by the control with just a mention of Asmira’s name, which the djinni had registered with quite some surprise.

“Someone’s got good connections, eh? You’re lucky I don’t care to see my mistress flourish, otherwise I would have told her. I still might. She’d surely try to leech of your influence a bit.”

Asmira eyed the demon, which had taken the form of a pudgy young girl. “I don’t think that’s going to be of much use. You may tell her whatever, but don’t forget to say that her debt is paid.”

The girl shrugged. “A relatively low payment for saving someone from ending up a sacrifice. Well, whatever floats your boat.”

  
  


The city itself had changed a lot, it had expanded and its population had grown even more numerous. She found the way to the marketplace effortlessly, as if it had been yesterday since she left and not almost two decades, although having to walk through the additionally built outskirts of the city took some more time than she had thought it would. The hill on which the Palace had been built loomed above the lower levels of the city and Asmira made a stop to get a refreshment and eat a bit, she would need the energy for the rest of the walk. She assumed she wouldn’t have difficulties with getting into the Palace itself; if she had just needed to say her name and the djinn patrols had let her through, they’d hardly stop her now. 

Turns out she actually didn’t need to do that, as when she reached the large plaza in front of the palace gates, a familiar figure came into her view. It was still in the shape of a black owl with red eyes but as soon as it came close to the ground, it turned into a dark-skinned youth, wearing a white tunic and leather sandals, large golden earrings and a golden choker around its neck and a sharp smile on its face.

“Asmira. You were a bit quicker than expected.”

Asmira greeted the demon with a nod. “So Solomon is expecting me?” 

“In the throne room, yes. We don’t have to _run_ , y’know, it’s not _that urgent_ , but nevertheless he is glad you came here as quickly as you could.”

Asmira nodded. _I didn’t do it for him_ , she thought bitterly. No, if Solomon didn’t have the Ring, she wouldn’t have come here. She was only doing this because she knew of the consequences that might arise if the Ring were to fall into the wrong hands. The moment Solomon died, it would be up for grabs, and she had personally seen what happened if that occured.

The demon led her through the gates and together they walked through the halls of the palace without exchanging a single word. The reconstruction had done wonders to the building, and it arguably looked even more magnificent than before its partial destruction. The palaces in Nineveh, Babylon, Memphis and Damascus _paled_ compared to the beauty of Solomon’s home, which surely had to be the intended effect. 

They entered the throne room through the side portal meant for visitors, and stood in the hall which was filled to the brim with people. But still, Solomon’s eyes were on her as soon as she entered the room.

“Out. Everyone. Right now.”

The general blabber quieted down, and all those present, more than two hundred people, held their breath. From the lowliest servant to the vizier, a young man Asmira didn’t recognize, they all paused in whatever they did to stare at the king whose voice had rung over everyone else’s without having actually screamed or shouted. 

Then, without any repetition from the king himself, _everything_ turned around to leave the throne room, be it demon or human. Some of them, more richly garbed and presumably more higher ranking magicians, wore their displeasure openly on their face, but weren’t intent on getting onto Solomon’s bad side. Asmira stood next to the door, waiting for everyone to get out, some people threw her curious gazes as they passed her by, until the only ones present in the room where the king, the demon and she. 

“Demons, guard the doors. Whoever wishes to enter is to be denied and kept from disturbing me at all costs, non-fatally I would prefer.”

The muscular afrit guards nodded once and closed all the doors that led to the throne room. 

“You are dismissed, Semiramis.” The king snapped his fingers and with a cry of joy, the demon vanished in a cloud of dark purple smoke that faintly reeked of sulphur.

Solomon clasped his hands as he sat on his throne. As Asmira came closer, she wasn’t surprised to see that she had been right in her guess: he rarely barely had changed. Yes, his hair had gone dark grey the lines on his face were somewhat deeper and his posture had something heavy about itself but he still had the appearance of someone who was only slightly past his prime — but a glamour didn’t matter; what did was the face beneath the mask.

  
“Your majesty.” Asmira said and kneeled in front of Solomon.

“Asmira. My dearest Asmira.” Solomon smiled and it was so earnest that Asmira was almost taken aback by it. “ _You_ have no need to kneel in front of an old man.”

He stood up from his throne and walked over to her, sat down on the steps and let out a sigh.

“Sit down, if you will. I’m very glad you’re here.” Solomon smiled and leaned back on his elbows. “How are you doing? You look quite different these days, but still recognizable as yourself. The eyes, the face shape, your posture… unmistakably _you_.”

Asmira moved to stand next to him but didn’t sit down. “You still look like yourself — not that much difference to what has been before. It’s a very good glamour.”

Solomon eyed her, his hand twitched. “I could show you, if you wanted to know so dearly what time does with whoever possesses the Ring?”

Asmira shook her head. “No thank you, I believe I can imagine. Does it hurt a lot?”

Solomon gave her a sad smile. “More with every single day. It gets worse with the years, I’m not the vigorous youth from two decades ago or more. But there is enough to say of me; how has life been treating you? Is what you have chosen for yourself fulfilling?”

“More than being guard captain ever was, if that’s what you want to know.” 

“Have you seen the world?”

“Yes, indeed I have.” Asmira took a deep breath. “If the Ring pains you, take it off.”

Solomon’s eyes twinkled and he grinned. “Is this a command to a king?”

Asmira shrugged. “It's advice. Besides, since I serve _no_ king, that includes you.”

The King of Israel let out a throaty laugh. “How right you are! But, as a matter of fact, I do have to show you something, or rather: _someone_. You are quite clever and I explicitly told the demon Semiramis to not say any specifics out loud as someone might be eavesdropping, but since you arrived here in record time, I assume you counted two and two together and know exactly why you are here. Where did she find you?”

“10 days away from Palmyra, 5 from Damascus. Someone owed me a favor and that’s why I’m here so quickly.”

“And there are no words for how glad I am for that.” Solomon paused. “Do you like playing Checkers?”

Asmira blinked. A boardgame? Now? “Err, yes, I was never good at it—”

“Me neither. My siblings and later my first wife always beat me; only when I became king, people miraculously lost against me. A real pleasant side effect of the Ring, surely.” Solomon clicked his tongue, spoke a syllable and out of thin air, a very beautifully painted board of checkers, with 24 pieces — 12 made of alabaster, 12 made of onyx — stood between them on a small table. Solomon moved to sit on one of the two cushions that had also appeared. Asmira gave a sigh and sat down on the opposite side of him.

“Pick whichever color you prefer.”

Asmira took a closer look at the pieces and saw that the white ones had the face of a manticore carved into them, whereas the black ones sported the head of a phoenix. She picked the onyx ones and positioned them on the board as Solomon did the same with his manticore pieces. 

“You see,”, he sighed, “I would like for it to be different but the sun is setting on me, and with my death, the power of the Ring is at danger of falling into dangerous hands. I don’t want that to happen — and I reckon that you don’t want that either.” 

Asmira put her first centerpiece forward. Solomon picked one at the very right.

“You’re right. Which ones of your magicians know about your current state?”

“Not a single one, and they’re not alone — no one knows. The only reason I do is because Uraziel feels my strength dwindle and does his best to not give me unnecessary pain.”

Asmira moved another piece. “That is a kindness not everyone would give.” _Be they spirit or human,_ **_especially_ ** _if they’re human_ **_and_ ** _a magician_ , she added to herself.

“That is very true.”

For some time, neither of them made a noise besides the occasional pensive hum before setting down a piece, scoff when the other made a move that ruined their plan or took a piece of the other and an amused chuckle when something went well. Asmira knew she had a _horrendous_ pokerface but Solomon turned out to not fare that much better in that aspect — or maybe he was just letting his ground down around her?

“You weren’t joking when you said you weren’t good.” He chuckled as he foiled her attempt to turn one of her men into a king.

“What exactly is it that you want me to do?” Asmira asked in turn. Solomon’s hand froze but he regained his composure in an instant — but made a very senseless move ultimately. 

“I know that people who wouldn’t abuse the Ring’s power are about as common as white ravens, but I do trust in you — you’re clever, resourceful, quick on your feet. If there’s someone I can trust to destroy it, then it’s you.”

Asmira’s eyes widened and she stared at Solomon. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she felt the blood within her veins freeze.

“I beg your pardon?”

That was an _impossible_ request, even he had to know it. From what she saw of the Ring’s power, its destruction would need an immeasurable amount of energy cast upon it; she doubted there was something in the world that would even _scratch_ it.

“Hm.” Solomon hummed, his attention turned fully towards the board game again. Rage surfaced in Asmira, for a second she felt the childish impulse to hit the table with her fist or throw the board away so Solomon would _speak_ to her.

The King of Israel sighed as he noticed her barely contained fury. “Close your eyes.”

That was the only warning she got before she saw Solomon’s fingers move and— 

A presence manifested itself in the throne room and Asmira’s ears _rang_ , and she suddenly felt as if she was seventeen years again, a hereditary guard of Balkis, Queen of Sheba, and had tried to steal the Ring for her queen and for Sheba with the help of one mediocre-on-paper-except-not-so-much-in-reality djinni. 

“ **Solomon. Asmira.** ”

Asmira had pressed her eyes shut as she heard the voice of the Ring spirit as if through a fog but still so loud that she thought her eardrums would rupture.

“Uraziel. How many years has it been since you played a board game?” Solomon spoke as if his conversational partner was an old friend from their childhood days and not an all-powerful spirit that was capable of both great as well as terrible deeds.

“ **Before your people came to this very land and settled here, back when Ur was the capital of the world.** ”

Solomon nodded. “Had checkers already been invented back then?”

“ **I believe so, albeit perhaps with different rules than as you know them.”**

The king sighed. “I really missed out an opportunity to invite you for a game, Uraziel. I could have learned the old rules and you could have had some entertainment during your imprisonment.”

“ **I don’t hold it against you, master, don’t worry.** ”

Asmira felt a trickle of _something_ down her nose, whether it was sweat or blood she couldn’t tell exactly. She tried to wipe it away with her sleeve, courtesy be damned.

“Talking about your imprisonment… Asmira, I believe you had a question for me? I do believe that Uraziel is a little more knowledgeable to give you an answer.”

Asmira opened one eye and instantly felt it tear up when she saw a figure, which she knew to be Uraziel, just like she remembered him (and saw him occasionally both in dreams and nightmares), sit to her left and Solomon’s right. Even though he had no facial features resembling those of humans, she felt his gaze on him, straightened her back and gave him a small nod.

“Uraziel. How do you think I, a human with only very basic knowledge of magic, will be able to destroy the Ring? If I were a magician, I’d summon a marid to crush it and thus set you free, but as I am not… I cannot imagine how I would accomplish it.”

Uraziel didn’t reply at first, then: “ **I don’t think she’ll just let you win, master.** ”

“I didn’t think so either.”

“ **If I have ever met one stubborn human, it was you, Asmira. I don’t think you’ll rest until you find a way to destroy the Ring.** ”

“You don’t understand — _I can’t_.” Asmira said loudly and made the mistake of opening both eyes. Uraziel’s form was too overwhelming for her and she felt the blood pulsing in her head, feared for a moment that her skull would crack open like an egg that had fallen to the floor.

“ **I don’t mean to be insulting, but** **_you_ ** **can’t - that is correct. Yet you can** **_find_ ** **a way, any way, to destroy it; a magical artifact of equal or more power with an emphasis on the offense. The most important step is though that we will need to leave Jerusalem before we can go on our search.** ”

“ _We_?”

“ **Yes; you and I. This could be very unsavoury for you but I will need you to use my power to leave the city and Israel.** ”

_Unsavoury… Well, that is one way to put it_ , Asmira thought bitterly and remembered Solomon’s wizened face full of wrinkles when the Ring had been off his hands, as well as the magician Khaba ageing several years after a few minutes of using it. 

“ **The pain is hard to endure, yes, but with such short usage, any ageing will reserve itself after a while.** ” Uraziel spoke, as if he was reading her mind.

Asmira nodded.

“ **You are a most extraordinary human, Asmira — you don’t seek to subconjugate your fellow humans, you don’t thirst for power and you place your personal freedom above everything else but not as the cost of the wellbeing of others. Very admirable and virtuous traits to have, especially as they are rare among your kind.** ”

“That is very right.” Solomon said with a sad smile.

“ **You have made a lasting impression both on Solomon as well as me. I trust you with this, and you might be the only one of whom I can say so.** ”

Asmira blinked. Such words coming from a creature as powerful as the Spirit of the Ring… she felt strangely honored — even if she had to admit he was wrong.

“I thank you for having such a high opinion of me, Great Spirit of the Ring, but I have to correct you; humanity in general isn't synonymous with magicians. Most of them just live their life and co-exist peacefully within their community, family and among friends.”

Even though he had no mouth to smile with and it was hard to read a silhouette, she knew he was amused at her lack of cynicism, perhaps even pitied her.

“ **I will not question your judgment, but it does support my view of you.** ”

Whatever he meant by that, Asmira decided to let it go. It would be no use, and she wasn’t overly invested in changing his mind.

“Do I have a choice?”

“ **Neither of us do.** ”

Asmira closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew she didn’t, and it vexed her to no end that her hand was being forced, not by Solomon or Uraziel per say but rather the entire situation. Maybe if Solomon had never found the Ring in the first place, they wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

She exhaled. “I see.” 

“ **It is done then.** ” Uraziel’s statement had a finality to it which Asmira didn’t want to protest. She had no duty to fulfill for Solomon but this was something she had to do for no king, but rather a whole people - the people of the known world. 

“Knowing that the both of you will be cooperating puts me very much at peace.” Solomon said and turned his attention back to the game. His hand hovered over one of his white pieces, then suddenly moved to another that he picked up and quickly moved it to kill one of her men. 

“ **Impulsive moves rarely pay off.** ” Uraziel commented, and maybe Asmira just imagined it but his voice might have been somewhat dryer. He was right though; by moving that piece away, Asmira could in turn kill one of his men and skip to the king’s row. 

“Huh… well done.” Solomon mused and eyed Asmira’s king. She suppressed a grin. “How does it feel; to be earnestly losing?”

“Since there will be no fatalities — I cannot complain.”

“ **You will be earnestly** **_beaten_ ** **if you don’t pay more attention**.” Uraziel remarked.

Solomon looked at the spirit from the corner of his eye. “Big words for someone who doesn’t know the contemporary rules.” 

Asmira smiled. For a moment she didn’t feel like she was talking to a king and his terrifying servant but rather… just playing a board game with a friend and a very unsettling observer, who nevertheless was benevolent. It made her forget that the man opposite of her was dying, and that she would soon go on a dangerous journey while carrying a highly desired magical artifact in the hopes of finding a way to destroy it, either by herself or with the help of someone else. 

She remembered how a demon had perceived its aura even from far away, she would have to be extraordinarily careful from now on.

“Say, do the two of you know the rules of Twenty Squares?”

Solomon looked up and grinned. “Do you want to savor your eventual victory with many heavy losses?”

  
“ **Judging by her tone, I think you will be more than evenly matched.** ”


End file.
